


Blood Over Blood

by Halloweenhead131



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 3
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halloweenhead131/pseuds/Halloweenhead131
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our life is made up of a carpet. Every single thread is a path that we could take in our every daily lives. Some of those treads are cut off, others get wound even tighter into the rest, bringing everything together.</p><p>But what happens if your carpet is only half made, half wound, all the threads are in such disarray, such chaos that one path blurs into thirty, another path blurs into a oblivion?</p><p>What happens, when you have no path at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Killer Kick"

She could hear her own breath, audible in her ears as she was pulled along, her feet stumbling over the rolls and rocks on the ground. The sound of leaves being crunched underfoot and the grunts and groans that followed behind her and floated to her ears from in front of her. She couldn't see anything, the matte blackness of seeing behind a makeshift blindfold over her eyes, it probably would have been better if she could have seen, at least she would have probably been able to walk properly.

Peoples muffled whimpers and crying accompanied the walking party through god knows where, but she kept silent, even when she felt her breast being grabbed roughly and twisted, even when she felt the nozzle of a gun run up her inner thigh. From the smell of this place, damp earth and the musty smell of moss and the various sounds of leaves, the faraway sound of the ocean crashing against the white beach she had seen before she was blindfolded. It was a jungle or forest, that would be the same except a forest wasn't tropical and according to the various caws of parrots and the hissing of snakes, paired with the humidity that stuck to the skin like a leech, it was definitely a jungle. That or she was high but it was all the same.

This was all the fucking same, all the same, ever since she was a kid it was the same, everything, get up, get captured, do whatever you need to do to stay alive, escape, do some drugs when you got home and do it all over again.

That was the bad thing about being a part of the mafia, or at least a little girl of a mafia boss, well she wasn't little anymore as a woman who was twenty-five years old and five foot seven, nor did she really like her father who had trained her as a mercenary from day one but she loved him all the same, he was her father after all. Speaking of which, what the fuck would he do when he found out?

If her mother found out, god, get the coppers to handle this! Jesus Christ, there was nothing the fucking cops could do, an even if they would be more likely to arrest her ass too, from the start her mother had been an absolute blond dumbo, needless to say, that she and her mother never had a good relationship since she could speak her mind.

Her brother wouldn't care, too emerged in the world of blood, drugs, money and sex to even care about what his baby sister was doing and her sister was just as dumb as her mother, going through boyfriends and spreading her legs like it was Friday every day along with the cocaine she could be on cloud seventeen where her eyes could see the world and wouldn't look down to see her older sister tied up, gagged, blindfolded and being dragged god knows where.

She tripped and roughly hit the ground on her shoulder, tearing away the flesh in deep puncture wounds and rough lines of parting flesh. The pain searing down her shoulder and leg as she grunted and tried to right herself, get on her knees at least, a rough calloused palm gripped her one arm, with her hands tied securely behind her back it was impossible to do the smallest things. They pulled her up into a standing position, brushed dirt off her leg and arm to see the damage and then carried on, so, they didn't want to kill her just yet then, or else they wouldn't have checked the wounds.

Believe her, the tripping wasn't planned and hurt like hell but it was still nice to find something out from her captors because the last thing she remembered was going to bed last night on the yacht cruise ship and waking up on the white sand this morning with the sunlight shining in her bloody eyes along with the rest of the people on the ship. Not including the captain, she didn't know where the fuck he went, asshole.

She was pulled roughly to a stop, almost falling forwards on her face if a rough hand hadn't pulled her up harshly at the last second, she was definitely going to bruise, the painful stinging sensation on her arm told her that. Yet, she still didn't make a noise, if you call a grunt when she was shoved to the dirt a noise, well technically it was but then she wasn't a technician so she didn't look at the technicalities.

Her arms were jerked up behind her and she winced slightly and felt her shoulder give a rough audible pop before they were loose and then they were jerked forwards, in front of her and lifted above her head. Again, ropes were tied tightly around her wrists and then the blindfold was ripped from her tightly shut eyes unceremoniously and she flinched back to the reaction of the sun blinding her behind her eyelids with a reddish-orange glow.

She heard a lot more whimpers now, moans of pain and torment surrounding her as she slowly blinked her eyes open to get used to the light straining between the leaves of the trees. Cages made of bamboo and thickly tied rope with chains and padlocks on the doors, men milled about in colours of red and camo green all or most carrying machetes or AK-47's. She was actually slightly impressed, even with the throbbing pain beginning to set into her back and shoulders as they were tightly held above her head with her back being arched to accommodate the awkward angle.

"Vaas! Hey! Vaas! Some new merchandise just came in!" She tried to angle her body so that maybe she would have been able to see behind her, she felt weak and out in the open with nothing but bamboo bars that had huge holes between them for an amount of annoying protection to her otherwise unprotected back. Anyone could just come over and put a hole in her back if they wanted to, that or put a machete in it.

A man kneeled, a couple prisoners shivered and some tried to get away, others seemed to piss themselves and some started to cuss through the gags, instead of turning to fear they turned towards anger, she couldn't blame them. But her? She felt absolutely nothing and she looked away, staring at the ground between her legs. She had pants on, thank her mind for that, she hated bugs, and in this area, they seemed to swarm around people who had blood on them, she felt a tickling feeling on her cheek and she got rid of it by swiping her cheek on her arm.

"Look at this bitch..." She looked up, the man wore a brilliant red bandana around the lower half of his face but he could tell he was grinning maliciously behind it, his wide brown, drug crazy eyes roaming her form tied up to a cage like a pig on the spit. Ready to be gnawed on, but she wasn't here to fuck around with these men.

"She's got some nice tits eh?" She wasn't here to let them take advantage of the people with her, if they touched her, they would die. She didn't care how, but they would. A woman whimpered, in a frilly little dress to the right as she drew up her legs as they came through the cage doors, just a little closer and she would have your balls.

"Let's see em." Her heel tapped her rump and she leaned most of her weight on the cage behind her and down on her foot, her toes cracked in her boots and she gave no sign of pain, just looking at the man who was wearing the bandana coming closer to her. The woman beside her was garbling underneath her very own gag, or was that duct tape? She couldn't figure it out but the noises from the prisoners were getting on her nerves slowly but surely, fraying her calm exterior at the edges and causing her gaze to harden. She could feel the clawing feeling in her stomach, the burning in her throat as he came closer and closer. The feeling rose in her mouth, burning her taste buds and making her feel like she needed to sink her teeth into something, she sunk her teeth into the flesh of her mouth, the inside of her cheek until the burning went away and she was left with a dull ache and blood running out the sides of her mouth as his hand touched her shin.

It was his last mistake, ever. Her foot kicked out, muscles tensing with the heavy impact of her foot in his face, she could hear the audible crunch of his nose shatter, there wasn't any other sound except for that. The whole cage went silent, actually, the whole camp seemed to go silent, perhaps she had done something wrong? Or was it just her ears that belied the fact that someone was screaming beside her, definitely not. Nope, nothing is wrong, not in her books. No sound except for the muffled screaming until someone beside her growled.

"You fucking bitch! You killed him!" Another man, this one shorter, heftier though through the shoulders with a wide jawline, he had the face of a pug. Squished almost, she chuckled from beneath the gag as the prisoners around her screamed in worry and fear as he came towards her. Probably fearful for her but still she felt nothing. The backhanded slap hit her cheekbone at full force, head wrenching as much as it could to the side and she laughed harder, her reaction to the blossoming pain through her face, it probably made her look crazy. She probably was crazy with the edges of her eyes crinkling and her muffled laugh coming through the gag, it made her shoulders hurt and her chest heave with the amount of pressure put on her joints.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!!??" The man came walking up with the air of confidence in his step, the man above her paused, looked down at her uncontrollably laughing her ass off below him with a dead man behind him and a purple bruise blossoming just underneath her eye. She wondered how the it looked really, somebody give her a mirror so she could watch this comedy in H-fucking-D.

"She, she killed him! Kicked him in fucking the face!" The other man, as she saw who had one hell of a mohawk going on and the man bent over at the waist and cupped one hand over his ear in a mocking fashion. He still kept walking forward, albeit at a slower pace as she noticed the necklaces dangling from his throat, and the red, blood splatter tank top her wore with the camo pants and military styles boots that were speckled with mud and blood as well.

"Did I just hear correctly that you got beaten up by a little girl? Huh, amigo? A little GIRL?" The man above her spluttered, stepping away slightly as the other came forward and into her cage, only at the door, barely inside it as Mohawk looked her up and down, gaze hardening when he took in the sight of her cheek and she caught sight of his hand dripping blood, from the cuts across his knuckles, it was his own.

"No- I-" The mohawk guy 'tut'ed and looked at her, scowled once again and raised his eyes to meet the other man who tried to stand his ground, his posture was all wrong though, this one standing in front of her, was scared of a man, probably a couple of inches shorter than he was. Idiot.

"You..." Mohawk point at the man with two fingers held out in a gun like fashion. "Got beaten up, by a girl, who has her hands bound to a fucking CAGE?!" He put his fingers up to his temple, miming the fashion of a gun going off before he dropped his hands to his sides when the man above her nodded. Mohawk came through the cage door like a furious whirlwind, his eyes covered in a blind fury as his head rearing back at the same time he cupped the mans cheeks, fingers digging into the guys cheekbones before his head snapped forward...and connected squarely with the taller one's nose causing the other to stumble and fall.

"Get the fuck out of my sight, and take this pile of fucking SHIT with you!" He then crouched down to her eye level, spinning on his toes to face her, his eyes a light green as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger before with no gentleness whats so ever tilting her head to the side as the man made his way out with a glare aimed her way, dragging his dead buddies body along with him. The man with the green eyes and mohawk tutted, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he breathed out his nose.

"I'm sorry for my men hermana, sometimes, they need their skulls cracked open for them to get the picture..." He let go of her chin and sighed, splaying out his hands before him as a peaceful gesture as he watched her with a small smile, she had come down from her laughing fit but she had a body high on adrenaline and it pumped through her veins, getting rid of the pain, it was like being on PCP again, except without her mind going foggy, instead it was sharpened and everything was a lot clearer.

"For someone who is tied and gagged, you sure did a number on him...I respect that. You have balls chica." He nodded his head slightly and stood, she followed his movements with her eyes, her gaze lingered on his ass a little longer than necessary but he did have a nice ass, that and the gun that was stationed behind his right hip was located above it.

"I'll be back chica, I need to give the fucker that gave you that bruise a lesson because he touched property that wasn't his, until then, ta-ta." With that and a small wave, he was off again after he had closed and padlocked the door, taking the key with him, although it wouldn't have been hard to just break down a wall she did have to think about how the hell the bindings would come off. So far she had killed a single person, wasn't the first and satan knows it wouldn't have been the last, she had killed before and she had a slightly pessimistic view on killing people. Even if her father believed in an eye for an eye would make the whole world better but whatever, she really just didn't like people touching her.

That was just that.


	2. "No Sound Please"

She awoke in a nasty ass mood with her heart thundering in her ears like a huge goddamned drum beat that morning to the sounds of ear-shattering screams coming from a metre away, a woman was shaking the man beside her furiously, trying to wake him up. She noticed the golden rings on both of their fingers, her mind snapped and so did she, physically she was drained, mentally she was fucking pissed and psychologically she was on the moon because God knows that she's out of her bloody mind.

"Shut the fuck up!" She yelled, her voice a raspy but hard-hitting yell that was almost louder than the screams as her calm was snapping like an elastic band wound too tight as she did a small crouch walk towards them, not even being careful of other peoples legs and probably crushing a few toes on the way.

"He dead, okay? He's DEAD. This shit happens. Every FUCKING day actually." She gripped the woman's face between her dirty palms as men in red and even the mohawk dude came forward, the woman shivered, knocking her head back against the cage behind her as the woman's nails dug into the bare flesh of her arms.

"You need, to shut the fuck up before we all end up like him. Okay? OKAY?" The woman, tears streaming down her dirt riddled face, she could feel blood drip down her arms from the small red crescent moons on her arms, the woman whimpered as men came into the cage, holding a gun to anybody's head who moved.

"Fuck she's right...boss he's dead!" More swearing followed as the woman's eyes darted down to her husband's body being dragged through the mud. The woman kicked out, the foot glanced across her thigh and pulled her skin, probably creating a bruise. It was something like slow motion, her arms wrapped around the woman's neck, pulling her body forward and around against her chest.

Of course, the woman struggled, making bloody lined and punctures in her arms, along with the bone of her elbows as she put pressure on the woman's windpipe. The flailing wasn't something she liked as she wrapped her legs around the woman's waist from behind, like a giant bear hug with her left arm underneath the woman's chin and the other behind her head, pressing her windpipe into the muscles of her arm. The garbled breaths as her eyelids fluttered closed, the hand that was raised to scratch her eyes out fell limp and she let her fall aside with a muffled sound.

"Fuck! I hate being touched!" She pushed the woman away with her feet none too gently, people in the cage with her either glared or made wide eyes at her from underneath their hair and eyelashes and she snarled at them, they pulled the woman to them on the other side of the cage as she backed herself back into the corner.

"He got bit by a fucking snake hermano, take this shit to the pile..." She rubbed her arms, up and down her biceps before running her fingers through her chin-length black hair that was naturally curly, well slightly curly, she hadn't thought about it before now but she really needed a shower. The sweat and dirt were sticking to her skin like a thousand leeches and she hated the fact that it felt like bugs were crawling along the hairs sticking up from her skin.

"Hey! Chica, that woman better be alive." Mohawk dude crouched across from her, looking at the woman before his green eyes flicked to hers.

"She's alive. Knocked out though, she won't scream anymore at least." He nodded his head, looking at her boots that her long legs had splayed out before him, three quarters across the cage. That was how small the cage was, she was only five foot seven, so that meant the cages were only about six foot maybe a little less than that.

"She's lucky one of your men didn't get to her before I did, she would probably be dead or screaming even more by now." He nodded and then grinned as she mimicked the mime expression of a gun going off by her head. She saw something in those eyes, they weren't...they were totally there but they had intelligence and a film of barely contained rage, perhaps, no that couldn't have been. He wasn't like her, he couldn't be like her, he was the head honcho, not some random mafia twit on the bandwagon ready to be thrown into battle.

Now, unlike before she could see the gun as well as a rather large knife now hanging from the belt around his waist.

"Three hours sleep isn't bad for me though, waking up to the screaming gave me a headache..." She was muttering to herself now but she could tell he could hear her, his eyes always on her face even as she inspected the bloody cuts on her arms from the woman.

Some were still bleeding, blood welling up and some even weren't surface wounds, instead, the blood welled up underneath the skin, causing it to turn a reddish purple colour. He chuckled, shook his head and looked down at his hands that were clasped in front of him before looking up at her through his eyelashes.

"You know chica...I didn't get your name...shall I call you Sofie? Or...?" She looked up, her eyes meeting his as he watched her, it was like a predator, watching prey from a close distance but not quite the right time to strike, something wild was behind those light green eyes, something that maybe would either rip her throat out on a seconds thought or purr and rub itself into her outstretched hand.

"Hey! Chica! I'm fucking talking to you!" She blinked, had she taken long? No, it could be, no this man would snap at a moments notice at just a small word.

"Angel." His head quirked to the side and she mirrored the movement, her head quirking also, ear brushing her scabbed shoulder and something flickered behind his eyes. She saw his fists clench and unclench before he dug into his back pocket for something. She found out that something was a brown packet of smokes, probably done locally from the looks of the packet.

"You know hermana, you're a fucking joker, you know that. It pisses me off but for some reason, I can't find myself to get up and put a bullet in your brain." That was actually quite a good thing for her, she had heard about this before, how people seemed to calm down around her instead of getting angry at something she said, Angel watched him light one, her eyes on the glowing end.

"What? You want one muñeca?" He chuckled and shook his head, yeah she wanted one, the migraine was running through her body, making his voice thunder through her ears and mostly she wanted to stop breathing because every breath felt like it was ripping her apart. She usually wouldn't smoke very often, maybe once a day, but she didn't have one yesterday, or the day before and now she knew why she had snapped this morning so suddenly, she hadn't had her nicotine fix.

"Did you just call me 'doll'?" She sucked in a breath between her teeth and then licked them, they were gritty, and it was gross and disgusting, she would kill for a toothbrush and some toothpaste. Why the would he call her 'doll', she didn't mind nicknames but she also didn't know him at all.

"Yeah? You don't like it? Too bad hermana, you're gonna' be muñeca from here on out." He chuckled and stood, his fingers twitching around the smoke before he took a drag and let it out in a cloud of white that seemed to hang in the air for awhile before dissipating into the air.

"Actually muñeca, let's go for a little drive huh?" She did not like the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Vaas's good side so far, I'm pretty sure he won't be so happy for long...  
> Read, Review, Kudo if you like!  
> Logical criticism is always welcome!


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